"So," said Rodge, driving a pick into the corpse’s back. "What was your favourite episode?"

"Has to be seventy-eight," replied Lindsay, eyes far-off in the realm of nostalgia. "I used to watch that one every morning before school."

"Bobble’s Hunting Lodge - good choice."

BobbleCon 2018 had been difficult to organize - so much of the fandom was in prison or otherwise indisposed - but they’d finally managed to snag a venue and a good chunk of attendants. The trouble was, Rodge reflected as he pulled the pick out of the body, the locals didn’t seem to care much for Bobble at all. There was no end to the Bobble haters, from what Rodge had seen. There were all sorts of organizations keen to keep him locked up or even, God forbid, kill him.

"Well," he said after a minute, stuffing the pick back into his backpack. "I think Deputy Dollop here got the point. We should be able to go on without any more interruptions."

He began walking back towards the village’s church, which the attendants had covered with home-made Bobble banners and other wonderful memorabilia. It really wasn’t fair how that cop had wanted them out - this village had shit in terms of viable convention venues. If they didn’t set up in the church, where would they set up?

"That you do not," said Rodge, opening the doors to the church. The convention-goers turned from the pews, eagerly awaiting news about the deputy outside. Their faces were painted white, and their hair dyed orange - just like Bobble! It was a bit of fun Lindsay had come up with when they’d first met up. Rodge and Lindsay had done the same themselves. He’d never done cosplay before, but he had to admit it was pretty amusing.

"Well?" said Preston, the only one of them in a full Bobble outfit, from the altar. His eyes were wide with anticipation.

Rodge reached into his bag and pulled out the pick, blood still dripping from its edge.

"The show goes on!" he cheered, and BobbleCon cheered with him.

-

Rodge had first met Bobble when he was…six, maybe? Definitely at least six.

He’d been sitting in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal, when he’d heard a crashing sound from the living room. He’d run to check out what it was, and what did he find but his mother, having fallen on the floor unconscious? It looked for all the world like she’d just fallen asleep while doing the ironing.

Rodge, worried, had run to the phone, ready to call 911, when -

"Hey there, kids! Guess who?"

Rodge looked up to see a face on the television. A cheerful-looking cartoon clown, with pale skin and curly orange hair. There was a kindness in his eyes. You could tell that straight away - this was a person who wanted the best for you.

Maybe…maybe it would be best not to call 911. She’d only fainted, after all, and Rodge was pretty curious about this new show. He didn’t remember ever seeing it before.

Rodge went and sat on the couch, watching the television with rapt attention. The clown on the screen grinned, as if he could see straight into Rodge’s living room.

"Thaaat’s right! It’s your old pal, Bobble the Clown!"

It was like nothing Rodge had ever seen. He’d caught glimpses of violent movies and stuff when he snuck downstairs after bed, but never more than snippets. Blood and guts, screams and cries…he’d never realized how fun they could be. Bobble made them that way, of course. The show wouldn’t work without him - Rodge could tell that even way back then.

Thirty minutes flew by like nothing, and by the end Rodge wanted nothing more than for his new friend to stick around. Bobble seemed to share the feeling, weeping exaggeratedly on the screen, hands over his eyes.

"Oh, boo hoo! Boo hoo! Alas, children, that’s all for today! Please…please, if you have any decency in your hearts…"

Suddenly, he took his hands away, and those kind, kind eyes were back. Kind, grey eyes, like the edge of a knife. He grinned at Rodge.

‘Tune in next time! Honk honk! Honk honk!’

The television snapped back to static, and soon enough the morning news resumed playing. His mother stirred on the floor, slowly getting up.

"Rodge?" she slurred. "What happened?"

Rodge didn’t reply. He was too excited, his face having broken out into a grin just like Bobble’s. His new friend would be on television again just the next day!

He’d never been happier in his life.

-

"I first started watching Bobble when I was nine," said Preston into the microphone taped to the altar, the rest of the attendants listening reverently from the pews. "My parents were having a divorce at the time and I was honestly having a hard time of it. Bobble gave me something to look forward to every morning and - and this fandom, I honestly think this fandom saved my life. I love you guys so much."

A wave of polite clapping and cheering went through the pews. Lindsay, standing behind Preston, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"We Bobbleheads have to stick together," she said, smiling warmly.

"Episode three nine nine," Preston recognized the quote, tears in his eyes.

"Yeah. Episode three nine nine."

-

Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-993 is no longer under containment, all efforts are to focus on tracking down and halting all SCP-993 broadcasts. Outgoing broadcasts are to be intercepted through the updated version of Procedure Upsilon-Beta 3, operated by Learning Computers Tau-4 ("AMON") and Epsilon 9 ("JOSIAH").

Physical searches of broadcast locations are to be handled by Mobile Task Forces Zeta-2 ("Lumberjacks"), Eta-10 ("See No Evil") and Mu-9 ("Toybreakers"). Individuals identifying as part of the group 'BobbleCon', or individuals over the age of ten who are immune to SCP-993's effects, are to be treated as hostile and engaged with appropriate force. Class-C amnestics are to be administered to any individuals suspected to have been exposed to SCP-993's cognitohazardous effects. All involved MTF Units are to be supplied with SCRAMBLE-type goggles in order to prevent them from viewing SCP-993 and being rendered unconscious.

All security on SCP objects mentioned in prior SCP-993 broadcasts is to be intensified severely.

-

One day, Bobble the Clown had stopped airing. There’d been no warning, no prophecy from Bobble to let his viewers know. One day, Bobble came to visit, and the next he didn’t.

Rodge wept for weeks. He was inconsolable. He’d done so much for Bobble - the cats that had disappeared in his neighbourhood were proof of that - and he’d just left him. He hadn’t even said goodbye.

When he thought back on it, after those first few weeks, he realized that Bobble wouldn’t have left his fans by choice. There was nobody Bobble loved more in this world than his fans. He hadn’t left. Someone had taken him. Stolen him.

Rodge ran away from home not long after that. If Bobble was missing, then it was up to his fans to find him. Over the years, through internet cafes and meetups, Rodge grew to meet other Bobbleheads on the same quest. They’d scour every bit of information even slightly related to Bobble, hoping to release their best friend from his chains.

But, in the end, there weren’t many of them. Even with guns and knives, you could only overpower so many to get the information you needed. All they managed to scrounge up, for all their efforts, were three letters: SCP. Rodge assumed they were the ones who stole Bobble, but he couldn’t even be sure of that.

They’d lost hope until Lindsay had contacted them, and let them know of the treasure she had.

-

"We’re all waiting, Lindsay," laughed Rodge, trying to appear casual - but there was a pit in his stomach. What if it didn’t work? What if Lindsay was wrong?

"Be patient, Rodge," grinned Lindsay. Rodge could almost see the excitement trickling out of her skin like sweat, or maybe pus. The two of them turned as they heard a door open.

Preston and another Bobblehead wheeled in an old television and VCR player from the church’s recreation room. The attendants rushed to gather around as Lindsay approached it.

"The tape!" the convention cheered as one, so high-pitched it was more like a scream. "The tape! The tape!"

"Courtesy of Westhead News! Praise Bobble, and praise the Tree!" laughed Lindsay, shoving the tape into the player. Rodge didn't know what the hell the Tree was, but he didn't really care at this point. His favourite show was coming back on!

The screen turned on. For a few horrible seconds it showed some cartoon about an elephant, and Rodge thought that it was over, but then it changed.

The picture was of a blank, empty room. White and sterile, with only a chair in the centre. A prison cell, surely. There was a man sat in the chair, and they all recognized him. They all knew him. How could they ever have forgotten that face?

The show zoomed in, and soon enough Bobble the Clown’s face filled the screen. A deep frown was on his face. His kind, grey eyes flicked from left to right, taking in everyone in the church. His frown became a smirk, and then a wide rictus grin. He laughed, a jolly screeching laugh that shook the stained windows of the church in their frames, before jumping out of his chair and planting a sloppy kiss on the camera.

"Hey there, kids!" he said. "Guess who?"

On 02/12/2018, at 21:07, the contents of all tapes previously containing recordings of SCP-993 suddenly changed to a new episode.

Episode Title

Contents

Bobble Loves His Fans!

Episode is framed as Bobble accepting a trophy in a large auditorium for his contributions to 'the arts, education and the continuation of human nature'. After giving an acceptance speech that goes on for fifty minutes (a full transcript of which is available in Supplimentary Document XXX-1), Bobble declares that in celebration of his award, he will be putting his show back on the air. To conclude his speech, he bids his audience (consisting of animated versions of celebrities, unidentified children and Foundation personnel) to commit mass suicide, a request they appear to happily comply with. Then, he leaves the stage through a wooden door at the back.

Following this event, the Foundation received reports that SCP-993 had resumed broadcasting from approximately ███ locations. Although interception of these broadcasts is ongoing as dictated by Protocol Upsilon-Beta 3, new broadcasting locations appear to be arising as fast as others are being blocked. It is at this point undeniable that SCP-993 has completely breached containment.